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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24806077">He’s My Muse</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietly_desperate/pseuds/quietly_desperate'>quietly_desperate</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>15 Days of Fics [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Anne with an E (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Art Boy, Cole Forgets About His Work Because Hello Frenchie, Cole Mackenzie Falls In Love, Cole is STRESSED, Flirting, Fluff without Plot, French Boy, M/M, Mould Me Like One Of Your French Boys, Okay This Is More Flirting Than Fluff But Oh Well, Rafael Is A Shameless Flirt, Rafael Just Wants To Flirt, Sculpture, There’s A Lot Of Swearing In This, innuendos, it’s getting hot in here</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:21:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,749</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24806077</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietly_desperate/pseuds/quietly_desperate</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s two weeks before the holidays and Cole has never been more stressed in his life. His sculpture is due in four days...but he hasn’t even started it. </p><p>Cue Rafael, the cute French boy that every girl wants, but his eyes are set on a certain artist instead.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cole Mackenzie/Original Male Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>15 Days of Fics [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1787188</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>He’s My Muse</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey!</p><p>If you read “Call Me Back,” I mention that Cole gets a boyfriend by the name of Rafael. This is their story. You don’t need to read CMB to understand this :)</p><p>Enjoy x</p><p>(Also, I am aware Rafael is a Spanish name, but it kind of suits the idea in my head of him being French. Just roll with it lmao)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cole was stressed. He was stressed because he was screwed, and he was screwed because his sculpture for his art class was due in four days and he hadn’t even started it yet.</p><p>What’s worse, he had absolutely no inspiration. Nothing. Nada. He’d have better luck digging for gold in Aunt Jo’s yard than trying to find an idea on who or what to sculpt. He had four freaking weeks to figure it out, but nope, as per usual, Cole just had to wait until the last second to get his shit together.</p><p>Mrs. Monroe, his art teacher, had encouraged the class to think outside the box. Seek inspiration in the unknown. Sculpt something that was out of their comfort zone. Cole had taken that advice too literally, and found he couldn’t find anything that inspired him because it all seemed too related to his previous artworks.</p><p>He’d tried asking Anne for some advice, or better yet if she was free for her to model for him, but she was too busy with her own exams to help. She offered up Gilbert, but Cole rejected the offer. He was much too far away, and a Skype call would never do him enough justice for Cole to sculpt.</p><p>In the end, Cole resigned himself to one of the free art rooms everyday after his classes ended, hoping that if he surrounded himself with other people’s creations, he may be inspired. So far, he had a lump of clay and wet hands.</p><p>On the Monday afternoon of Week Nine, Cole locked himself away in the art room once again, desperate for some spark to the imagination. He paced the room as he had a few days prior, looking over every piece of artwork he could lay his eyes on. The room was full to the brim with paintings, sculptures, digital art and graphic designs, yet none of it caught his attention long enough to get his brain kickstarted into gear. One particular painting, an abstract piece with a green background and different coloured lines and swirls caught his eye, but it was too abstract to turn into anything useful to sculpt.</p><p>Cole gave up and dropped into the nearest seat. It was better that he accepted his defeat now, rather than mull over the possibilities. For the first time in his life, he was going to fail one of his art assignments. The disappointment left a bitter taste in his mouth.</p><p>The door began to rattle, startling Cole to attention. He sat up and looked behind him, catching the eye of a rather attractive looking individual. When the stranger saw he had Cole’s attention, he motioned downwards at the door handle on his side.</p><p>Cole really didn’t need anymore distractions, but it wasn’t as if he was being productive, either. Plus, he was in a free room that anybody could use. He couldn’t deny someone else sharing the space.</p><p>He got up and opened the door, much to the other boy’s delight. His smile was almost blinding, wide and bright, that Cole was tempted to shield his eyes. Nobody was ever that happy these days.</p><p>”Thanks for letting me in. I left my pencil case in here and I really need it,” the boy said.</p><p>Cole shrugged. “It’s a free room. I shouldn’t have locked the door.”</p><p>The boy didn’t make a move to grab his pencil case. Instead, he jumped up onto one of the tables and sat down, kicking his legs back and forth like a child. Cole was stuck staring for a second, mesmerised by the easiness of which the boy became comfortable. He stopped when he realised he was staring. That was weird.</p><p>It became clear that the boy was in no rush to leave. Cole couldn’t kick him out, and he wasn’t in the mood to find another free art room, so he plonked himself back into his chair and pulled out his sketchbook, hoping that by drawing a few simple designs, he would find his muse.</p><p>”So, you’re an artist, huh?” The boy asked from the other side of the room.</p><p>”Um, yeah, I guess so,” Cole replied. “Aren’t you an artist, too?”</p><p>The boy chuckled. “No, why would you say that?”</p><p>”You said that you left your pencil case in here.”</p><p>”Oh. Right.” The boy jumped off the desk in one swift movement and glided over to where Cole was sat. “I did leave my pencil case in here, but that was yesterday, and I was in here for...other reasons.”</p><p>If Cole wasn’t suspicious of this boy before, he sure was now. His cute French accent didn’t fool him; he was clearly a troublemaker, someone that was bound to cause Cole a headache if he wasn’t careful. He needed to shut whatever this was down. Now.</p><p>”Yesterday was Sunday,” Cole said. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, ready to challenge any more bullshit that came out of this French kid’s mouth. “And even if you were in here for other reasons - on a school day, might I add - the rooms are monitored. Whatever you may have been doing would’ve been shut down fairly quickly.”</p><p>”You’re a smart boy, aren’t you?”</p><p>Frenchie smirked, which Cole found unnerving. Maybe it was because he was coming across as cocky. Or maybe it was because he was unbelievably cute.</p><p>Before he could blink, Frenchie had taken a seat upon Cole’s desk. He had to twist his torso a bit to face Cole, but that didn’t seem to deter him. In fact, that only pushed him to carry on. He scooted as close to Cole as he could manage, then leaned his weight on his right elbow so they were practically face to face.</p><p>Cole did <em>not</em> shiver. His heart did <em>not</em> skip a beat and his breath was <em>not</em> shallow. Whoever this kid thought he was, he was not having an affect on Cole at all. None whatsoever. No siree.</p><p>”Look, I’ve seen you around,” Frenchie said. “You’re really talented, and I like your style. I’m here because I have a proposition for you.”</p><p>Cole held his breath. “A-a proposition?”</p><p>Frenchie smirked and hooked one of his fingers under Cole’s shirt, pulling him closer. “Yes, a proposition. You do know what that means, right?”</p><p>”Of c-course.”</p><p>Damn Cole and his stupid stuttering. He never stuttered!</p><p>”Good. I know you’re struggling to find something to sculpt, so I’m going to help you out: sculpt me. Well, my face. My whole body would take too much time and should be saved for something other than a class project.”</p><p>Cole choked on his own spit. Frenchie was so close, he could feel his breath on his lips, and oh boy there was something really fucking hot about the way he seemed to take command. And that innuendo - God, Cole was screwed. This time, though, he was screwed in the best way possible.</p><p>He could feel Frenchie’s finger brush against his chest as he was pulled even closer towards his tormenter. The sensation sent a chill down Cole’s spine. The way Frenchie managed to be gentle and dominating with his actions at the same time was mesmerising. Cole wanted more. He wanted to see what else this boy could do.</p><p>”What do you say, hm?” Frenchie asked, his lips gently brushing against Cole’s as he spoke. “Will you sculpt me like one of your French boys?”</p><p>”How do you even know me?” Cole asked.</p><p>That was obviously the wrong question. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Frenchie released his shirt, consequently forcing Cole to fling backwards against his chair. He felt disappointed, but that was quickly eradicated as Frenchie did a one-eighty and slid off the desk and right into Cole’s lap.</p><p><em>Why, hello there,</em> Cole thought. God, this was way too hot to be happening in an art room, let alone an art room at his fucking University. He let out a shaky breath as Frenchie wrapped his arms around his neck. He began playing with the ends of Cole’s hair, and - oh, there you go, Cole was a goner.</p><p>”I’ve noticed you for a while now,” Frenchie said, leaning in to whisper in Cole’s ear. “I transferred in the winter and all I could see was you. You, with your paint covered hands. You, with your button up shirts and cuffed trousers. You, with your messy hair and flushed cheeks. You, with your soft lips.”</p><p>Cole had died and gone to heaven. His head was spinning, his heart was racing, and if Frenchie wasn’t careful, he’d be sitting on something very hard, very soon.</p><p>He leaned in even closer and was practically sucking on Cole’s earlobe. “We share one class, but I always sit at the back so you’d never notice me. I didn’t want your attention unless it was on me and me only.”</p><p>”Holy shit.”</p><p>Frenchie chuckled. “So, Cole, you never answered my question: will you sculpt me?”</p><p>”Yes,” Cole groaned. “Yes, of course, please.”</p><p>”Good boy.”</p><p>Lips found their way to where his ear met his neck, and Cole resisted the urge to moan. What the fuck was going on and how the fuck did he get more?</p><p>He wasn’t even worried about how some of the things Frenchie was saying sounded kind of creepy. All Cole could think about was his sweaty palms and hot skin. All he could think about was getting Frenchie’s lips back on his neck.</p><p>By the time he could finally breath again, Frenchie had gone and collected all the materials Cole needed to begin sculpting. He’d set them up on a raised desk, then sat upon the desk opposite it, patiently waiting for his artist to begin his work.</p><p>It suddenly occurred to Cole that he had no idea who this kid was.</p><p>”What’s your name?” Cole asked.</p><p>”Rafael,” the boy replied. “But you can call me yours.”</p><p>Cole grinned. “Alrighty then. I’m Cole, but you can call my number.”</p><p>Cole would forever say cheesy shit like that if it meant Rafael kept laughing. It was a beautiful sound, soft and angelic, but demanded ones attention. It made Cole smile.</p><p>”If I can kiss those pretty lips of yours, you’ve got yourself a deal.”</p><p>Cole didn’t get much work done after that. He was too busy learning the shape of Rafael’s face with his lips, determined to make his sculpture perfect. So what if he failed this assignment; at least he found his muse.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This ended up being raunchier than I was planning, but hey, the heart wants what it wants.</p><p>Let me know what you think! I hope you enjoyed reading x</p></blockquote></div></div>
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